


The Beginning of Something Beautiful

by gamesintheimpala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accused Infidelity, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Drug Abuse, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Past Drug Use, Past Relationship(s), PunkRock!Castiel, Recreational Drug Use, aftermath of alcohol use, hangovers, nerd!dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-10 21:48:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gamesintheimpala/pseuds/gamesintheimpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has made mistakes in his relationships. His past is questionable. He knows that. Dean knows that.<br/>But his best friend doesn't judge him. Instead, he helps him get his act together.<br/>Thus begins something utterly unexpected and beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drunken Nights

**Author's Note:**

> I read a fic that had punk!Cas in it and I just wanted to write something of the sort. I'm not sure how long this will get. Not as long as my most recent fic, however, sorry.  
> If you haven't read my other fic, I would love if you checked it out. It's kinda long and unfinished, but if you decide to read it I will love you :)

Dean looked up from the pancake he was cooking and grinned. Cas had finally emerged from the bedroom, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

“Dean? What time is it?” his voice was thick with sleep.

“Just after eight. You want some pancakes?” this had to be about the hottest Dean had ever seen Cas. Dean had laid out some clothes for Cas to put on when he woke up and he realized now that his choices probably weren't the best.

Along with the severe case of bedhead, the older man had on a plain navy sweatshirt, Dean's, and a pair of lounge pants. The sweater draped over his form like a parachute and the pants were so loose that they completely hung off of one hip. Dean didn't even know what was keeping them up. Probably the boxer briefs that he had on under them. The only thing Dean knew, though, was how much he actually liked seeing Cas in his clothes.

“Sure. Sounds good,” Cas mumbled, planting himself into a chair at the small table in Dean's kitchen. “God, how much did I drink last night?” he complained.

“I lost count,” Dean set a plate of steaming, syrup-covered pancakes in front of him. “Need some aspirin?”

Castiel nodded, burying his face in his hands and groaning.

Dean provided him with two small pills and a glass of cold water. “If you need to get sick say somethin' and I'll get the trash can over here.”

Castiel took the pills in one go and downed half the glass of water. “Thank you, Dean.” He looked up to the other man with an unreadable expression.

“Its nothing, Cas. Your clothes shouldn't take much longer in the wash.”

“You washed my clothes?” Castiel asked in amazement.

“Well, yea. I mean, after you threw up last night, you gave me a little show and ended up in nothing but your underwear before I could convince you to stop. Then you passed out in my bed.” Dean sat down at the table with his own pancakes, taking a large bite.

Castiel groaned and hid his face again. “Oh, Dean, I'm so sorry. I don't know what got into me last night.”

Dean swallowed his pancakes before speaking, “its okay, Cas. I mean, It is understandable.” He shoveled another forkful into his mouth.

“Understandable?!” Castiel said, mortified and then the events of the day before came flooding back to him.

 

* * *

 

He and Meg had had a huge fight. What about, Castiel couldn't remember at the moment. Meg had stormed out and left Castiel with a gaping hole in his chest after saying she was finished and that she would come for her things while he was at work.

He'd been utterly heartbroken. He'd tried calling Meg, but she rejected his calls and she wouldn't answer his texts either.

So he called the only other person he could think of.

 

* * *

 

Castiel and Dean had been friends for a little over a year. How they became friends was lost to everyone, however. Their personalities were complete opposites.

Dean was quiet and reserved, a bit of a bookworm. He wore black, plastic-framed glasses and always had a button up shirt and slacks or a nice pair of jeans on. He was very meticulous about his hair, it was either combed ever-so-perfectly down, or styled into a very particular fauxhawk. Your typical nerd. Castiel had made fun of him the first time he saw the guy in a sweater vest, but he had to admit, Dean did look damn good in them.

Castiel was nothing of the sort. He was loud and outgoing, having tons of acquaintances, but only a handful of true friends. On a typical day, he would wear worn out, most likely ripped, jeans, some kind of pop-culture tee and his hair was always a mess. He was pretty popular with everyone. Not out of the closet about his bisexuality, but not completely secretive of it either. How he had the good fortune to be friends with Dean Winchester, he'll never know.

 

* * *

 

Castiel had started dating Meg a few months after he met Dean. She'd moved in fairly quickly, but he was okay with that. They were getting pretty serious, or so he thought, when their big fight happened.

He recalled now, as he ate the pancakes Dean had made for him, that their fight had started because Meg thought he was cheating on her. He wasn't. He wasn't an asshole that slept around while he was in a committed relationship.

Sure, he'd spent plenty of time fantasizing about who he could only describe as his best friend, Dean, but he couldn't help himself. Meg had no clue who Castiel might have cheated on her with, but she knew he'd been getting home later than usual.

The fight had lasted for hours until Meg finally just left. Castiel sat in the apartment for a good two hours before he mustered up the courage to call Dean.

It was all pretty much a blur after he got to Dean's apartment. He'd brought over some whiskey, a bottle of tequila, and a fourth of vodka.

Looking around the apartment as he ate, he saw all three bottles placed neatly next to Dean's kitchen sink, empty. There were also numerous beer bottles beside the trash can. Cas figured the majority of those were his too.

After only a few bites of food, Castiel pushed his plate away and laid his head on his arms, groaning. He felt horrible. How could he do that to Dean? He hadn't even told Dean all of what happened, only that Meg was gone. Dean had said immediately the Cas could come over and they could talk, but of course, in his stupidity, Castiel hadn't thought it through when he went to Dean's.

Maybe he was just looking for some comfort in alcohol and maybe to get a quick lay, but he knew Dean was too good a person to pull some shit like that.

Instead, his best friend and the best guy he knew, took care of him when he needed it. Castiel hadn't asked him to do all he'd done in the past twelve hours, Dean had just done it. God, he was a horrible person.

 

* * *

 

“Cas? You okay?” Dean's voice was filled with concern as he laid a hand on Castiel's shoulder.

“Dean, I'm so sorry about last night,” Castiel groaned out, face still buried in his arms.

“Hey, I said its okay. But if you want to talk about it, I'm here,” he sounded so sincere Castiel just wanted to lock himself in a room and never come out. How was this amazingly perfect guy his friend?

“Thanks, Dean.” Castiel sat up and the world spun violently. He clutched the table and squeezed his eyes shut. “Shit, can I get that trash can?”

Dean was up and beside him almost instantly, the small trashcan with a fresh bag at the ready. He let his hand rest on Castiel's upper back as the man wretched up the small amount of food he'd just eaten. “Better?” he asked softly once Cas was quiet for a moment.

Castiel just groaned and wretched again. After a few minutes he wiped his mouth with a napkin and sat up in his chair. “Thank you, Dean,” he mumbled.

 

* * *

 

The next few days were relatively the same. Castiel was too afraid to go to his own apartment, for fear of running into Meg, except to get clothes so Dean let him crash at his place. Cas thought he didn't deserve a friend like Dean, but he never said anything of the sort to the man.

Every night, Cas would get so drunk he couldn't even stand, passing out on the floor or the couch. He always woke up on the pullout, though. Dean always took care of him. Every morning he would be incredibly hung over, but Dean was always there with aspirin and a cool cloth for his head.

Dean also didn't judge him. He didn't ask questions. He didn't tell him to get up and get over it, (though sometimes Castiel wished he would). He was too good for Castiel.

It didn't help that their school was on break at the time Meg walked out. Otherwise, Cas would have had some reason to pull himself together.

They were both seniors in the same college and they both had jobs, Castiel's was part-time, so he hadn't had to work recently and Dean worked full-time on breaks. Dean went to work during the day, which was usually the time that Cas got shit-faced, and didn't get home until about 9 at night. Sometimes Castiel was still awake when Dean got home and he almost always made a total ass of himself.

Three weeks after Meg left Castiel, Dean made sure Castiel was alright and then left for work. Instead of breaking open another bottle of liquor, Castiel decided to go home.

The place looked the same, except for a few items being gone. All of Meg's clothes were gone, some of the blankets that had been draped over the couch were gone, and various other items around the apartment.

It hurt to know it was over. The fact that he hadn't seen or spoken to her since that night made his stomach turn. They'd left on horrible terms and fought over false assumptions.

He understood where she was coming from, though he hated to admit it. He had been getting home progressively later over the month prior to the fight. He'd been hanging out with some unsavory characters he'd met at a bar. He wasn't cheating, but he wasn't necessarily telling the truth when he denied everything.

He'd simply fallen in with the wrong crowd. Started doing drugs. Castiel had just told Dean about what he was doing a few nights before the fight and his friend had been so understanding, so compassionate, that he had convinced Castiel to get clean. He'd stopped hanging around with Crowley, the guy that got him hooked on drugs, and was just going to come clean to Meg that night.

He'd walked through the door, ready to confess to everything, when she accused him.

 

* * *

 

A few more days went by and Cas got relatively back into his usual schedule. He thanked Dean about a hundred times over and started staying at his own apartment again. He even started going back to work as school started back up, having claimed he was terribly ill in order to get out of work before.

Both Castiel and Dean only had a few courses to complete before graduation in the spring. Cas was going for a Bachelor's Degree in Performance and Dean wanted his Bachelor's in Literature concentrated in Creative Writing.

Dean had never let Cas read any of his works, but Cas didn't think much of it, thinking Dean just didn't want to be judged for his choice of genre. Castiel knew Dean was gay, and he often wrote short stories of homo-erotica, always for pleasure, he never turned in those shorts. He had discussed with Castiel a few of the works he'd done for his writing classes, most of which were fictional stories that dealt with real life problems and obstacles faced by homosexuals, and Castiel honestly would love to read some of them, but he didn't want to go against Dean and read them without his permission.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I introduced another character in this chapter, hope you enjoy.  
> This may get longer than I anticipated.

Castiel fell back into a routine about a month and a half after Meg left him. Dean, of course, was grateful for this. He hated seeing his friend suffer. He would never judge Cas, however. Cas had his problems and he was entitled to them, just like everyone else, Dean included.

Graduation approached and so did the inevitable 'real world' chaos that followed. Dean knew he was as prepared as he would get for the real world, already having sent out a number of his short stories to publishing companies, hoping at least one of them would take.

He was really worried about Cas, though. Sure, the guy was an amazing actor. Even before they were friends, Dean had seen him in a lot of different productions. But he was still in pieces over Meg. Dean didn't think Cas had gotten his act completely together just yet and graduation was in two weeks. Their classes were already over, too, and Cas just didn't seem prepared.

Dean constantly invited him over to his apartment, he knew Castiel hated being alone. They pretty much just drank beer and watched TV, always disagreeing on what program they should watch, Dean always let Cas win.

They had grown significantly closer since the night Cas came over, an arm load of liquor in tow, and passed out on Dean's bed.

Dean knew what Cas had had in mind when he came over that night, but he didn't have the heart to let him go through with it. Sure, he liked Cas, a lot, but he wouldn't take advantage of him when he was in such a vulnerable state. Besides, Cas didn't even remember that night.

He'd gotten so drunk, he gave Dean a strip tease and had been trying to climb into Dean's lap, which Dean protested the entire time, when he threw up all over the carpet. Dean helped him get cleaned up and then Cas promptly passed out in Dean's bed.

He didn't mind. He knew what it was like to have someone walk out on him. His ex-boyfriend, Trevor, had done the exact same thing to him the night Dean met Cas.

Cas didn't know that, of course, because Dean had been too drunk that night to even remember Trevor's name and had ended up kissing Cas, which he felt awful for. Cas had been a good guy about it, though, telling Dean he should go home instead of doing something he'd regret.

That's why Dean didn't criticize his friend when he drank. He didn't criticize him when he threw up for what seemed like hours, hugging the cool porcelain of Dean's toilet. He didn't criticize him when he was hungover the next morning. And he didn't criticize him when he stayed at Dean's place for days on end. He wouldn't criticize anything Cas did.

 

* * *

 

Graduation Day was here and Dean had done all he could to help Cas get back on his feet the rest of the way. He thought he'd done a pretty good job. Cas had gotten on full-time at the office he worked at as an assistant, which he hated but would do anyway because the pay was outstanding, and he had caught up on all his bills that he'd let get behind during the weeks he was at Dean's.

All-in-all it was a good start.

 

* * *

 

Graduation came and went and they sort of drifted apart, Castiel working overtime at the office and Dean working on a novel after one of his short stories was picked up by a publishing company.

 

* * *

 

It was September, Cas claimed he was over Meg, but he never talked about her anymore. Dean had started dating a guy he met at the publishing company, Benny Lafitte, in June and Cas could tell they were getting kind of serious.

Whatever. It wasn't any of his business who Dean went out with. It didn't bother him in the slightest. Nope. Not at all.

Why didn't Dean see him? He was obviously in love with the guy, but Dean was just too damn oblivious. That night, so many months ago, Castiel could have gone to any number of bars, but instead he called Dean. He went to Dean's place.

He'd only met Benny a few times. The guy seemed nice. He was bigger than Cas, more muscular if his tight fitting shirt was taken into account, and taller. He didn't seem like the type Dean might go for, but Dean hadn't been exclusive with anyone since he and Cas had met.

It bothered Castiel. That Dean didn't notice how much he felt for him. He'd been attracted to Dean pretty much since the moment they met. With his black-framed glasses, messy spiked hair, and freckles how could he not be attracted to the guy?

Oh well. He'd missed his chance. Dean was with Benny now and they were happy.

 

* * *

 

Dean called late in the afternoon one day, asking if Cas wanted to go out to a bar. It was confusing, seeing as Dean had a boyfriend, but he agreed. The time Dean gave didn't give him any time to go home, so he just wore his work clothes: black slacks, white, button-down shirt, and his favorite blue tie. He opted out of wearing his jacket into the cheep smelling bar and just went inside, scanning for Dean.

When blue eyes met green, something in his stomach fluttered. Dean was wearing a greenish sweater vest and it made his eyes look all the more green. But then his view of the man was cut off by a body moving to slide into the booth right next to his friend. Benny. Castiel took a deep breath and went over to the table.

“Hello, Dean,” He nodded, adding a polite smile for effect. “Benny.”

“Hey, Cas! Glad you made it,” Dean's cheerful tone lightened his mood as he took his seat.

“Hello, Castiel,” Benny's slight southern drawl was unusual with Castiel's name on his tongue. “How have you been lately? Haven't spoken in a while.”

“Oh I've been well. Occupied with work. You?” he hated small-talk. He never had to just chat pointlessly with Dean. They were close enough that they could comfortably sit in silence for hours and it would be fine. He wished Dean would save him.

“I've been alright. Workin' on Dean's contract for his book. Its gonna be a best-seller,” With that last sentence he leaned back in the booth and draped an arm across Dean's shoulders, causing the smaller man to blush.

“Benny, you haven't even read it,” Dean mumbled, embarrassed as he took a sip of his beer.

“Don't have to,” Benny shrugged and kissed Dean on the cheek before taking a long pull from his own beer. “I know you're gonna be great. I don't have to read your work to know you're talented. I can see it.”

Damn this guy was good. Dean's blush was deep and it highlighted his freckles. Castiel loved it. “Dean never let me read his works. Not even his papers he wrote for school,” Cas said, noticing a waitress coming their way.

“Hey, hon. What can I get you to drink?” she chomped on a piece of gum. Very unappealing clicking noises coming from the action.

“I'll just have what he's having,” Cas motioned toward Dean's beer. He didn't really care for beer, more a whiskey guy, but Dean had good taste in beer.

“Be right back,” a few more clicks from her gum and the waitress retreated back to the bar.

Things got a little less awkward as he drank. Though just a few beers wouldn't get him drunk, he was a little buzzed. The conversation was light and Cas actually got some one-on-one time with Dean when Benny went to the bathroom.

“So, how are things?” Cas took a swig of his beer, not really looking at Dean.

His friend shrugged, “its okay. I've been really busy, so I haven't had a night out in a while. Its fun.”

“Yea, it is. How's the book coming along?”

“I have writer's block,” Dean mumbled, peeling at the label on his bottle.

“Oh, I'm sorry. How long?”

“'Bout a month,” Dean took a long pull off his beer.

“Does Benny know?”

He shook his head. “He'd be pissed. I've been lying to him about it for weeks. He thinks I'm halfway done with it. Cas, I have no inspiration,” he slumped in his seat and finished off his drink in one gulp.

“What used to inspire you before?” Castiel asked hopefully. He didn't like seeing Dean like this. He shouldn't have brought up the subject. Dean had gone from happy-go-lucky to completely miserable in a few simple words.

Dean hesitated, “I dunno.” He wasn't very convincing. Dean didn't want to tell him what his inspiration had been.

“You must know what inspired you to write how you wrote in school,” Cas pressed. Sure, he'd never actually read any of Dean's papers, but he knew the guy got outstanding grades, so he had to be good. Hell, he was picked up by an agency right out of college!

“I don't know, Cas, okay!” he snapped, immediately looking down at the table. “Sorry, I didn't mean-”

“Its okay, Dean,” Castiel interrupted. He noticed Benny coming back to the table and straightened in his seat, hoping Benny didn't notice the tension at the table.

“Hey, boys,” He stopped before sliding into his seat. “Dean, they're playin' our song,” he said, his voice syrupy.

Dean's smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he let Benny lead him out to the makeshift dance floor and into a slow dance.

Castiel was left alone in their booth, staring at his bottle, trying not to be jealous of this guy that seemed perfect for Dean. He sighed and decided it was time to go home. He'd wait until they got back to the table and say his goodbyes and be off.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, stupid question, maybe, but how on earth do you italicize text on here...?  
> I've been trying so hard to figure it out but I just CAN'T!  
> Please, someone help me..?? Please?

The months went by and Castiel still couldn't find an acting job, so he stayed on at the office where he worked, eventually earning a promotion. It paid well and he wasn't complaining, it just wasn't what he'd pictured himself doing four years ago when he started college. He should have known there wasn't much in the way of acting where he lived.

Last time they talked, Dean told him he was still having writer's block and that he and Benny had been fighting because of it. Benny had found out Dean was lying to him and he wasn't very happy about it. Dean still refused to tell him what his inspiration was when they were in school and he was writing a story a week. There wasn't much else Castiel could do to offer help, but he offered his ear whenever Dean needed him.

 

* * *

 

He was at his desk, fiddling with the keys, retyping the same sentence over and over again, trying to get it right. It had never been this hard when he was writing for school. He was writing for a grade then, now he was writing for money.

Benny was mad at him and they hadn't spoken in more than twenty-four hours. Dean scrubbed his hands across his face, pushing his glasses up into his hair at the same time. Why was it so hard?

He stared at the cursor. Blinking. Taunting. He had to get out. Had to go out and do something. Get his mind off this damn book.

Dean picked up his cell phone from his bed and flipped through his contacts. There was really only one name he was looking for. One person who could make him feel better. And it wasn't Benny.

He punched 'call' and waited. “Hey, Cas.”

“Dean? Hey, what's up?” the other man's voice sounded rough.

Dean checked the clock on his bedside table and realized it was almost one in the morning. Shit. “Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't realize how late it was, man. Um... do you wanna go get a drink?”

“Oh, no. Its fine,” Castiel grunted. “Sure. Uh, where at?”

“Pub down the road from your place?” Dean asked, not wanting to sound needy.

“Sure. Just give me a minute.” There was a rustling on the other end, “I'll see you there.”

“Yea, see you there.” he hung up the phone and grabbed his jacket before realizing he hadn't showered all day. He'd been too busy trying to write that he hadn't even eaten. He made a mental note to get a burger at the pub and grabbed an outfit from his closet, headed to the bathroom.

Thirty minutes later, Dean walked into the pub and searched for Cas. He saw a mop of dark hair over by the bar and immediately made his way toward it. “Hey, Cas.”

The other man turned on his bar stool and smiled at Dean. Obvious circles were under his eyes but the smile was genuine. “Hello, Dean.”

“Sorry I'm late. I forgot I hadn't showered, so I took a quick one,” Dean said, taking the stool next to Castiel's. “How've you been?”

“I've been well,” Castiel said, taking a swig of his beer.

Cas was wearing a tight-fitting, black t-shirt displaying graphics of angel wings stretching down the back, and tight fitting, dark denim jeans. He looked damned good, despite looking tired-as-hell. Dean couldn't help checking out his friend while he drank his beer.

“How have you been?” Castiel asked curiously after swallowing his drink.

“Not so hot,” Dean mumbled.

The bartender, who had seemed oblivious to Dean's presence until just then, came over and interrupted him. “Hey, what can I get you?” he seemed to be flirting as he asked, but Dean couldn't care to notice.

“Gimme a whiskey, please,” Dean said, eyes glue to the bar where he picked at his fingernails absently.

That seemed to trigger something in Castiel and he shifted in his seat. “Dean, you never drink the hard stuff,” he said, concern riddling his voice. “What's wrong?” He placed a hand on Dean's shoulder.

“Benny's pissed at me. He found out I haven't written anything since the summer and we fought,” the bartender came back with his drink and he downed it in one go, cringing as he swallowed hard. “Another,” he coughed.

“Dean, I'm sorry,” Castiel seemed unsure of his words. He squeezed Dean's shoulder gently before letting his hand trail to his back, right between his friend's shoulder blades.

“I shouldn't have lied to him,” Dean said, voice rough from the burn of the alcohol. A second drink was set in front of him and he downed that one as well. His cringe was less noticeable but still present after this one.

“Dean, its not your fault. Slow down,” Castiel said cautiously as Dean ordered another whiskey.

“Cas, he left,” Dean said harshly. He took Castiel's advice anyway, though, taking a small sip of his next drink and setting it aside. “Yesterday. Hasn't called or anything.”

“Dean-” Cas seemed at a loss for words. He dropped his hand from Dean's back and looked down at his own beer. “I'm sorry.”

'S not your fault,” Dean mumbled. He seemed to forget Cas's warning and downed his drink, not asking for another one. Three glasses of whiskey was more alcohol than Dean had consumed since that party in high school where the jocks had finally invited him and gotten their hands on some alcohol.

He was already buzzed with the first drink, and the second and third didn't seem like a very good idea anymore when the bar started spinning. He grabbed onto Castiel's wrist, his grip tight, as his head spun.

“Whoa, you okay?” Cas asked, concern in his voice again.

Dean nodded. Bad idea. His stomach lurched, “'m gonna be sick!”

Cas was up and pulling him toward the bathroom in an instant. Dean barely got into a stall before the contents of his stomach spilled into the bowl of the toilet. He gagged and wretched for what seemed like hours, Cas behind him the whole time, soothing words flowing from his lips.

When Dean finally stopped dry-heaving, all the contents of his stomach already having been expelled, he sat back on his haunches. Castiel handed him a few damp paper towels and he pressed them to his face, mumbling a thanks.

“Dean, are you alright?” Castiel asked softly, sitting next to him on the floor when he turned around in the stall.

“Cas, I don't know what I'm gonna do,” Dean's voice was hoarse and his mouth tasted horrid.

“He'll come around,” Cas offered.

Dean shook his head and immediately regretted it. “No. Not about Benny.”

“What, then? Your book? Dean, you just have to give yourself some time.”

“Cas, that's not what I'm talking about!” Dean said harshly, yanking the paper towels away from his face. They made a nasty sound as they slapped onto the tile floor of the bathroom. “I'm hardly even upset about Benny leaving! And I couldn't give two shits if I finish the book on time.”

“Well, then, what?” Castiel seemed none the less confused as he questioned.

“You, dammit!” Dean hadn't realized he'd been thinking it until it slipped past his lips. He would blame it on the alcohol if things didn't go how he'd imagined.

Castiel's face displayed shock as he stared at Dean, dumbfounded. “W-what? Me?”

“Damn, you're so oblivious, Cas,”Dean mumbled. He brought his knees up to his chest and buried his face in his arms.

“What are you saying, Dean?”

“I've been head-over-fucking-heels for you since we met,” Dean lifted his head as he spoke, looking Cas straight in the eye.

Castiel didn't speak for what seemed like ages, looking away from Dean's piercing gaze. After a few minutes, he spoke up. “Dean, you're with Benny. And you're happy together.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. Cas was flat out saying he didn't want him. Well, he thought, that's what the alcohol is for. To take all the blame. “Cas,” he started but stopped himself.

“Dean, I think I should take you home,” Castiel said quietly. He got to his feet and helped the unsteady Dean get to his own. They walked out and Castiel paid for their drinks before going to Castiel's car. “You can come back tomorrow and get your car, Dean.”

“Took a bus,” Dean answered plainly. He'd been planning on getting drunk when he invited Cas out and he had obviously succeeded. The pounding headache, vomit breath, and his friend's arm around his waist were proof of that.

Cas didn't say anything as he piled Dean into his car and went around to his own side to start it.

“Cas, please don't make me go home,” Dean begged when Castiel was buckling in. “Its lonely there. And my computer mocks me.” He'd forgotten how clingy he got when he was drunk and now he was sounding like a child.

Castiel sighed and pulled out of the parking lot. “Dean, where do you suggest I take you?”

“Why can't we just go to your place?” Dean said it as innocently as he could, but the look on Castile's face suggested that his friend wasn't comfortable with the suggestion.

“Dean, I don't think that's a good idea. You're drunk. Don't you think you should go and sleep in your own bed?”

“Its too big. I get cold,” Dean whined as they stopped at a red light. “Please, Cas?” He put on his best puppy face, something he'd learned from his younger brother when they were kids.

As the light turned green, Castiel sighed, “fine Dean. But nothing is going to happen tonight. You are with Benny and I respect that. I'm not going to be your mistress.”

Dean wiggled in his seat gleefully as they drove along.

When they got to Castiel's apartment building, Dean nearly tumbled out of the car before Cas got around to him to help. They made their way up to Cas's apartment and Cas got Dean a toothbrush and some sweats to sleep in.

Dean was grateful for the mint taste of the toothpaste and the comfort of soft pants, which, of course, smelled like Castiel. The shirt he was provided with didn't fit him very well, he was a little bigger than Cas, so it stretched across his chest. Dean noticed quickly that the shirt was one of Cas's favorites and he couldn't help the warmth that spread through him at the thought.

When he emerged from the bathroom, Castiel's expression was unreadable as he looked Dean up and down, pausing on his chest just long enough for Dean to notice. He didn't say anything, however, as Dean moved toward the couch. Just as Dean was about to sit, Cas spoke up.

“Huh-uh,” he said simply. “I'm not letting you sleep on my couch, Dean.”

Dean turned toward him, confused. “W-where am I supposed to sleep?” he asked sheepishly, voice slurred still from the alcohol.

“You can have the bed,” Cas motioned toward his bedroom. “I'll sleep on the couch.”

Dean shook his head, “no way, Cas. I'm not gonna put you out. You've done enough for me. I can take the couch.”

“I'm not gonna argue with you, Dean. You're not really in any condition to, anyway. Just go and sleep in my bed. I can sleep on the couch. Its not a big deal.”

Dean huffed, he wasn't going to let Cas sleep on his couch when his bed was perfectly fine. “Please, Cas?”

Castiel went into the bedroom, leaving Dean even more confused. He thought Cas had given up until he came back out into the living room carrying a pillow and a blanket. “Go,” he commanded.

“Cas,” Dean protested, only to have a hand pressed flat to his chest pushing him toward the bedroom. “Cas, come on. Really? At least share?” the words were out before he could stop them in his drunken state. His mouth snapped shut and he thought his eyes were going to pop right out of his skull.

Cas stopped pushing him, his hand lingering against Dean's right pec. He blinked in surprised speechlessness. “What?” he murmured after a moment.

Dean didn't have a good answer. He'd just offered to share Castiel's bed with him. Castiel, wonderful, blue-eyed Castiel. All he wanted to do was share a bed with the guy. He just hadn't thought it could start out like this.

“Dean,” Cas seemed to suddenly realize he was pretty much feeling up his friend, dropping his hand instantaneously. “You should go to bed,” he mumbled, looking down at the blanket still in his hand.

“No,” Dean said defiantly. “Either I'm takin' the couch or you're sharin' the bed with me.” He put his hands on his hips and planted his feet, though unsteady as he was.

“Dean,” Castiel sighed, sounding defeated. Without a word, he moved around Dean and into the bedroom. “Come on then,” he said when he got into the room.

Dean's heart jumped into his throat and butterflies fluttered in his stomach as he made his way into Castiel's bedroom. Cas had his back to Dean, rifling through his dresser. He turned around with a pair of sweatpants in his hand.

“I hope you don't mind, I sleep shirtless. Can't stand the constraint of a t-shirt when I sleep,” he said nonchalantly as he moved past Dean and toward the bathroom.

Dean couldn't believe what was happening. He straightened the already neat bed while he waited to keep busy, folding down the blankets. Cas had a nice bed, queen size. The sheets smelled like him.

When Castiel came back into the bedroom, Dean didn't even notice until Cas was right behind him. “What are you doing, Dean?” he asked in the most serious voice, slightly deeper than normal, causing Dean to jump.

“I-I'm uh, fixing the blankets.” He turned around and his breath was taken away by the sight. He hadn't seen Cas shirtless since then night Meg left him. He never got over it.

Cas had a cross tattooed just below his collarbone, a pair of angel wings coming from behind the crossbar. Another intricate design, featuring the words _“militia_ _caelorum, non timebo mala,”_ graced his ribs. It was sexy as hell. Dean wanted so bad to touch them, to let his fingers brush the dark ink of the foreign letters, to trace the cross with his tongue... _stop!_ He tried to push the thought away and then Cas just had to go and talk.

“Are you going to get into bed?”

“Huh? What?” Dean's eyes snapped up to Cas's, only just realizing he'd been staring.

“I said, are you going to get into bed?” he could tell Cas knew he'd been staring at him and he was thankful that his friend didn't question him on it.

“Oh. Yea,” Dean turned toward the bed, heart in his throat as he climbed into his friend's bed, wiggling under the covers.

Castiel crawled in after him, moving a little closer than Dean expected before turning off the lamp and settling his head into his pillow. “Good night, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for my slight meltdown up in the beginning notes, but seriously. Help me....  
> And I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. I finished it a couple days ago but just got around to posting it. Thanks for your patience with me. :]

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how often I'll update this, so I'm sorry if you enjoyed it and I get bored with it, (hopefully I won't), but if I do, I apologize in advance.


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